


Jitters

by TheProducersHat



Category: The Producers (1968), The Producers (2005)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProducersHat/pseuds/TheProducersHat
Summary: After taking over Broadway, it's no wonder the famous duo gets invited to attend their first Tony Awards together. But how to overcome the jitters?
Relationships: Max Bialystock & Leopold "Leo" Bloom, Max Bialystock/Leopold "Leo" Bloom
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** _ _Here we are with another story! This time somewhat lighter. Or not? ;)_

* * *

Secure a black tie. Pin on a white flower. Slick hair back. Take a deep breath.

There was nothing to it, really.

He's done this before; he could do it again. It was no different than a regular opening night, right? The routine was simple: look presentable, act confident, celebrate success, go home.

Nothing more, nothing less. Right?

Except, this wasn't just a regular opening night. Those were the freaking Tony's.

Judgementaly looking at his reflection one last time, Leo sighed, heading towards the old leather couch. He plopped down on it heavily, anxiously glancing at the clock. It wasn't even 4pm. Still so much time before it begins. Still so much time to be nervous.

Why in the hell had he agreed to do the speech? He could barely speak up in front of a group of actors at the rehearsals; in front of people he knew, mostly. So what made him think he could do this? Max, that's what. He convinced him that it was an important part of the bussiness to say something before the ceremonies; to get the audience on their side to ensure future success. It was logical, of course, but that didn't make the situation much better. He still felt as though he could throw up any minute now. Which, considering his luck, could be precisely during those few minutes he'll spend onstage.

"Ready?"

Startled from his racing thoughts, Leo turned sharply to the source of the voice. Max was standing in the doorway, all dressed up, hair neatly styled and his black tux decorated with a single white flower, very much like his own. He wore a sly smirk on his face, most probably sensing his distress.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Leo answered dryly, although a smile tugged at his lips as well.

" _As ready as I'll ever be_ , " Max mimicked him, walking over to the couch. Leo just scoffed in response, wringing his hands tightly together to stop them from shaking. God, why was he so nervous?

"So," Max began awkwardly, leaning back casually, "Excited for the big night?"

"You know," he hesitated, intently focusing on the floor that suddenly became particulary interesting, "I've been thinking, and..."

"Oh no, no, no..." Max jumped in immediately, shaking his head and laughing sligthly, "Don't. Whatever you do, don't think. Thinking leads to overthinking, and overthinking leads to..?" He trailed off, gesturing to Leo to finish his sentence.

"Panic," Leo deadpanned without losing a beat, nodding knowingly.

He could practically sense his partner's eyeroll.

"Yes, in your case, overthinking leads to panic," Max passed a hand across his face with an exagerrated sigh, "That's not exactly what I meant, though," thus he got up, deliberately walking up and down the office.

"Overthinking leads to you messing up your speech. You messing up your speech leads to critics having a good day. Critics having a good day leads to us having a bad day. Us having a bad day leads to mistakes. Mistakes lead to more criticism. More criticism leads to less fame. Less fame leads to less money. Less money leads to bankruptcy. And bankruptcy," he stopped, turning on his heel to face Leo dramatically, "leads to death."

"Death?" Leo looked up at him, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Was that one of Max's debatable calming methodes?

"Why, of course," Max plopped back down next to him, smiling.

"Because if you mess up," he patted Leo's cheek jovially, "I may or may not kill you, hm?"

"Max!"

"What?" He grinned innocently.

"That... Really helps, thank you very much," Leo quipped sarcastically, falling back upon the couch with a moan.

"Aw come on, I'm kidding," Max pushed him playfully, then added mischeviously, "more or less..."

"In that case," Leo moved to get up, walking towards the bathroom to fix his hair, "I may or may not say it."

"Say what?"

"The speech."

"The speech?!"

"Yeah, because you see," Leo reemerged from the bathroom with a comb in hand, "I either try to say it, mess it up, embarass myself in front of hundreds of people and you'll kill me. Or," he stopped before the door to his bedroom, smiling at Max sweetly, "I may not say it at all; therefore be killed right away, without much fuss. Get it?"

"Very funny, but don't say twice," Max smirked, clearly enjoying their little exchange.

Leo, on the other hand, was closer to panic than he was to amusement.

"What if I'm not kidding?"

"What if you are?"

"You can never know."

"Oh, I think I can."

"Can you?" Leo turned to look out of the window, watching the people on the street pass by. Oh, how careless they looked. "I'm glad for you, then. I wish I could share your optimistic certainity..."

"Oh, come on," Max sobered sligthly, although there was still a jesting edge to his voice, "There are only two possibilities; you either can do it, or you can't. And to be honest, I personally thought that we're over the latter..." Max joined him in watching the outside life below, admiring the dim evening light that reflected off of the glassy buildings around. For a moment, he forgot what he wanted to say or what had he said before. Glancing over at Leo, who seemed lost somewhere between his own thoughts and the sunset, he smiled. A silence stretched out between them, but Leo didn't seem to care, or even notice, for that matter. So, Max chose to say nothing more, taking advantage of the quiet moment to reflect.

Oh, how far they have come.

Not even two years ago, he was certain that things weren't going to get any better. That his career was completely and definitely at it's end and there was nothing he could do about it; so he didn't. He used to stay inside most of the time, running errands and socializing with people only when absolutely necessary. Life seemed to work that way, if one could call it living, so Max had decided to convince himself that he was content. That he didn't need anyone. Relationships had always meant only additional trouble, so why bother? But as he turned to look at the young man beside him, who looked so dashingly professional in his tailored black tux, Max realized with gratitude how terribly wrong he had been. Fate seemed to intentionally make their paths cross when they both needed it the most, and now, two fullfilling years later, they were going to win their first Tony, together, as a team. Bialystock & Bloom; the most successful duo of the century.

Max could hardly believe it, but suddenly, he felt that bubbling excitement - that thrilling anticipation so strong it makes you tremble - spark inside of him again. Just like the old times.

Only this time, he had someone to share that excitement with, which made it so much more special than ever before.

"What are you smiling at?"

Max jerked awake from his reverie at the sudden question, but collected himself rather quickly.

His partner was watching him curiously with a warm smile, his eyes resembling pools of honey in the orange glow.

"I'm sorry, what?" Max asked awkwardly, realizing that he had forgotten the question the moment Leo asked it; so preoccupied he was with admiring his surroundings.

"You were smiling," Leo laughed softly, amused at his partner's dreamy demeanor, "Why's that?"

"Oh," Max laughed as well, scratching his head, suddenly feeling embarassed for letting his guard slip, "I was just thinking."

"'Bout what?" Leo grinned knowingly, pleased with himself for having caught Max in such a sensitive moment.

"About the ways I'm gonna kill you, remember?" Max smirked, pushing past him into the office, for he knew fully well what Leo was thinking. God, when did he become so soft?

"You know, you don't have to do that," Leo followed him like a stray cat, suddenly sounding somewhat annoyed.

"Do what?"

"Act like you don't have feelings. Every time you say or do something that you view as a display of 'weakness', you play it down with humor then react harshly when I call you out on it," Leo finally stopped following him arround the office and leaned on the back of his chair wearily, "Don't you think we know each other well enough? You really don't have to keep that pretense up around me; it's normal to feel nervous. I mean, look at me, I'm terrified!"

"What are you talking about? I'm doing no such thing!" Max crossed his arms defensively, "And besides, if anything, that's not a pretense; that's the way I am. And if I remember correctly, I don't go around pointing out your imperfections, isn't that so?"

"Firstly, that's not what I meant and you know it," Leo shot him an unimpressed look and raised an eyebrow, "And secodly, yes, you do."

"Alright, alright, alright...You win, I give up!" Max raised his hands in fake surrender, "What is the point of this conversation, anyway?"

"I don't know! There isn't any, I'm nervous!" Leo passed both hands across his face, getting up to pace around the office.

"Don't I know it..." Max sighed exasperatedly, following the frenzied accountant with his eyes.

"Could you please relax? What are you trying to achieve with these melodramatics, anyway?"

"Melodramatics? I'm just trying to like, breathe, if you don't mind..."

"Look, you are convincing yourself of failure before even trying. This gotta stop. No wonder you're anxious, with that mindset," he pointed an accusing finger at him, although his intentions were good. The kid needed to calm down before he managed to get himself into fullblown panic.

"That mindset," Leo mumbled lowly, as if reassuring himself more than anyone, "is not my fault."

Max knew what he was reffering to. Who he was reffering to. Leo had been raised this way; Everything he'd ever aspire to achieve was doomed to fail. Still, he seemed determined to overcome that thought which was being planted into him half his life. And thinking about it, Max could see his progress each day.

Situations that used to scare him deeply just a few years ago now became a calm daily routine. He was much more talkative than before, social encounters became less and less of a problem and most importantly, he seemed to have accepted himself for who he was; Nervous compulsions and all.

One could say he had grown in a way Max was extremely proud of, for partly, he believed it to be his doing, too.

All those little changes in behaviour showed that Leo desparately wanted to move on; To cut all the ties with his past that kept dragging him back and start anew. So why was he letting past fears get into the way of one of his biggest life accomplishments?

"Alright, listen," Max put one hand on Leo's shoulder as he always did when lecturing him, "This could be the day of your life. Of our lives, for that matter. The names Bialystock & Bloom are soon going to be on every main page of every newspaper in all of New York. Hell, in all of America!" He gestured enthusiastically, expecting the same amount of excitement from his partner.

Leo, on the other hand, just shrugged, "Well, I'm not sure that's such a good thing, actually..." he laughed nervously, then seeing Max's incredulous expression, quickly added, "No, I mean, I'm happy for our success, naturally. It's just this big responsibility, you know? So much could go wrong; or, in other words, I could do something wrong. Do you.." he looked down sheepishly, suddenly looking so heart-wenchingly timid, "Do you think I can do it?"

He stood there, looking at Max with those wide, pleading eyes; Begging him to say yes, to reassure him. How could he say no? Still, he couldn't guarantee anything. The possibility of Leo panicking onstage and fleeing the scene was there; he couldn't deny it, as much as he'd wish to.

"I'm proud of you," was Max's well-measured response. It sounded better than a simple "yes". Plus, it was the truth. And Max felt as though he had waited a lifetime to say it.

It took Leo a moment to process the words. Proud of him. Max? Why, of course. He knew - hoped - that Max was proud of him, but having him actually voice it was... What was it like? Thrilling? Scary? No, not scary. Foreign? Definitely.

If it was anyone else, they would have probably smiled, thanked and moved on. But this was Leo. The only natural thing to do was what he always does: To worry. What if he disappoints?

Proud of him.

Oh, God.

* * *

_**A/N:** _ _More to come! Let me know what you think :))_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Changed the PoV and tense to see what works better. Hope it's not too distracting!_

* * *

An excited chatter echoes around the Waldorf Astoria Grand Ballroom. I peek from behind the curtains into the full auditorium, scanning the many faces but recognizing just a few. I spot our production team in all it's gay glory, with Roger and Carmen in the middle, smiling brightly while whispering some nonsense to each other. Are they discussing me and Leo? Hard to say, but I wouldn't be surprised. I shake my head, laughing to myself and turn my gaze back into the backstage.

My eyes fall on Leo, who's pacing back and forth, reading through his stack of index cards over and over, his free hand fidgeting with the tip of his blanket.

I frown. He hasn't pulled it out in public for ages, a progress he seemed to be particulary proud of. Why break that now?

I sigh, deciding to watch him from afar, as I have a feeling he would snap at me if I approached him now.

He continues the nervous tic, looking heavenward and muttering something. Whether he is cursing the Lord or asking him for mercy, I'm not sure.

The rumble coming from behind the curtains quiets down, followed by applause, alerting everyone that the ceremonies have officially started. I turn to Leo, who looks up just as the Master of Ceremonies announces the beggining of the 15th Annual Tony Awards, 1961. We lock eyes with Leo, and I can clearly see the building panic there. Oh, Jesus. He quickly averts his gaze, but I make my way towards him anyway.

"You alright?" I stand next to him, digging my hands into the pockets of my expensive tux in an attempt to look casual, but I suppose it came off looking nervous more than anything.

"Are you?" He answers my question with a question, genuine concern in his voice.

I have to laugh. The typical Leo behavior. Projecting his feelings onto others and assuming they feel the same way. Wanting to help them when he can't help himself.

"Yes, Leo, I'm fine," I smirk at him reassuringly, relieved to see him smile back slightly.

"Good. That's good..." he trails off, looking down to his cards once more.

I roll my eyes.

"Firstly, you haven't answered my question. Secondly, those cards will only stress you out. Don't you have it memorized?"

"Hm?" he tears his eyes away from the speech, glancing at me shortly. "I, uh, I have them just in case. Plus, I feel like I remember nothing, so..."

"Oh come on, you could recite it in your sleep... I think you even did, once?" I raise an eyebrow, attempting to cheer him up a little. No such luck.

"When am I going up?" he stands on his tip toes to look over my shoulder, completely ignoring my remark. Judging by his distracted demeanor, there's a chance he hasn't even registered it.

"They'll call you, don't worry," I say dismissively, hoping to get his mind off of the task at hand.

"No," he breathes urgently, the blatant anxiety in him shooting up, "No, I gotta know. I gotta be prepared. I-"

"Leo," I plant my hands on his shoulders firmly to keep him in place, "The only thing you gotta do right now is to calm down. Are all these nerves worth the few minutes you'll spend there? I think not."

He stares at me for several moments with wide eyes, presumably considering what I've just told him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. Looks down to his cards. Back at me. Towards the stage. Takes a deep breath.

"I..." He begins, closing his eyes to regain composure. I smile. At last, he seems reasonable.

"Yes?" I prompt him with an expectant look.

"I can't do it," he finally chokes, pries himself from my grip and disappears behind a curtain before I can react.

* * *

I make my way through the many fancy rooms, everything coated in gold. I've seen such interiors a million times before; they fail to impress me anymore, but I was certain Leo would adore them. Instead, he barely raised his eyes to look around since the moment we entered. I knew he would be nervous, - it's Leo, after all, - but I didn't think he'd give up.

That kid. He'll drive himself mad with worry one day without even knowing how or why. Oh well, we're our toughest critics.

I nod at several people along the way and flash them a phony smile, hoping they won't want to indulge in a conversation. Although I must admit, it's a good feeling to have people fawning over you just because you're well known again.

Nonetheless, I'm growing impatient as I pass through yet another hallway without any signs of the fidgeting fool. Where had he gone? Maybe they're expecting him to be ready in a few minutes. Maybe he's already missed the chance. And maybe, just maybe, I wish I hadn't asked him to do it in the first place. What did I expect, anyway? Of course he would run.

I am, too, running out of options of where to look, except outside, where I sure as hell am not gonna search for him. Maybe he's gone home.

I've even entered (and left immediately afterwards) several bathrooms like a lunatic, offering an especially awkward greeting to whoever happened to be standing there at the given moment.

Almost ready to give up and storm back to the Ballroom, I stop in front of possibly the only door I haven't opened yet. One of the fancy bathrooms; the one closest to the main auditorium. Why didn't I look there first? Oh well, I could use some refreshment myself, after this adventurous trip through the hotel.

Of course, that's where I find him. Leaning over a sink, water dripping off his face, his previously neatly styled hair disheveled.

"Leo," I sigh deeply, trying not to sound too disappointed, "What exactly are you doing here?"

He only lifts his eyes to look at me in the mirror, then shakes his head, bending over again.

"Are you kidding me?" I snap a little too harshly, "You should be up there, making our name known! Do you know what honor it is, being invited to speak at the Tony's?"

He keeps staring down the drain.

"Do you?"

Still nothing? Wow.

"Sorry," finally comes the meek reply. He won't even look at me.

"Sorry isn't going to fix anything." I brush him off, although I'm not as mad as I sound. Disappointment would be a better term.

"What do you want me to do, then?" he inquires quietly; I can almost sense his fear. What is he afraid of? Me? When have I ever done him wrong? I'm only being fair with him.

"I want you," I begin lowly, trying to keep my voice steady, "to pull yourself together and get your ass on the stage. As in, now."

"I can't."

"Why?!"

"I'm sick!"

"You're... What? What is this again? You weren't ill this morning!"

"I'm not _ill_ ," he raises his voice as well and straightens up a little. "I am _sick_ , there's a difference."

"A difference? What _difference?!_ " I scoff, clueless as to what is he trying to tell me. "Look, if you are really ill, you should-"

"I'm not ill, damn it!" He shouts, which gets my full attention. Leo never shouts. "I'm nauseous, alright? I'm afraid I would- that I will..." His voice cracks and I suddenly feel like a jerk. Fantastic. How does he do that?

"Alright, listen," I approach him cautiously, placing a hand on his back. He flinches. I wince at the uncontrolled vibrations I can feel beneath my palm. "I think you are overreacting, to say at least. Nonetheless, I need you to do it, okay? I just can't afford... Can't allow that, do you understand?"

"Of course," he says, and I can't help but hear a fair amount of sarcasm underlining these simple words. But him? Being sarcastic? In this situation? Impossible.

"Now, what kind of tone is that, son?"

He straightens up suddenly, startling me. I have to step back as he sways on his feet, steadying himself against the closest wall. What the hell?

"Leo? Are you-"

"Of course it's just bussines," he cuts me off instantly, the words coming out strangely strangled.

"Excuse me?"

"This whole situation," he gulps, running a hand through his hair frantically, "You dragged me into it. I didn't want to do it. I told you I don't want to do it. And yet..." he trails off, attempting to laugh, but it comes out more like a sob, "And yet you did it. Why? In the name of bussines, naturally. It's never about-"

"Could you shut up?" I snap. I never intended anything against him. "You agreed to do it. You told me that you can; that you will try. It's not my fault that you change your mind all the damn time!"

"And it's not my..." A shuddering inhale, "It's not... You never..."

Here we go; He's stuttering. I, for one, know what follows.

"Fine. I get it, just stop."

"If you just-"

"Seriously. You're gonna freak out."

" _Listened!"_ Leo chokes finally, gasping for air. Dear God. He finally did it. He managed to work himself into a near panic. Again.

"Leo," I warn, but my only intention is to keep him calm. That is, as calm as this boy can get. "Look, just..." I begin with the intention of lecturing him, but decide against it immediately. I know that look. "Hey, what's going on? It's.. it's not just the speech, is it?"

He looks at me strangely and I know that I've hit the nail on the head. Ha.

"What is it?" I demand, more urgently this time. He steps away from me.

"I've gotta go..." Leo mumbles after a prolonged pause. I study his face. Surprisingly, there's no anger in his eyes; Just fear (unsurprisingly), worry (as usual) and a certain amount of determination (rare).

"Go? Go where?" I call after him, but somehow, he's managed to slip around me and straight through the door. Sneaky bastard.

"Leo!" I try once more, but know that he won't come back; Of course he won't. And just like that, the worry from minutes ago is replaced by anger.

"Fine! Run, then!" I shout into the empty hallway. It echoes off the tall walls, back to me; mocking me.

"All you ever do is run, anyway..."

Cursing under my breath, I straighten my hat, turn on my heel and confidently make my way back to the ballroom.

Time to make it right.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Continuing where we left off. ;)_

* * *

I tremble. What am I doing?

There's silence. Over everything. I'm not sure whether it's been there since the beginning, or how long I've been standing here, for that matter. I squint, trying to look past the lights to see if I'm suddenly alone. I'm not. There's hundreds of them. Staring. Waiting for me to do something. To say something.

The longer I wait, the more I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. The lights are blinding me, but I'm unable to move out of their way.

Finally, I clear my throat.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Leopold Bloom. As the majority of you surely knows, I'm not here by myself today. I speak on the behalf of my partner, Max Bialystock, without whom-" I'm interrupted by a half-hearted applause, throwing me off guard.

"I'm here," I continue, fighting to keep my voice steady, "to speak on the behalf of my partner, Max Bialystock."

Why am I repeating that? I steal a quick glance towards the right wing, hoping to spot my fore-mentioned partner there. Maybe he'll look me in the eyes and nod approvingly. Maybe he'll see what I'm doing and join me. Maybe he'll come and save me from this soon-to-be catastrophy.

But, he's not there.

I look down to the index cards clutched in my trembling hand. I've forgotten about them. Shit.

I wipe my hands on my tux, fumbling with the stack of cards.

"Um, yes. As I said, I'm a part of a theatrcial duo, Bialystock and Bloom. And I want to say, this is such an honor for us, to be invited-"

I turn to the next card.

* * *

After 10 minutes of furious searching for the idiot, I ended up chatting with the stage manager. Maybe he'll give us a chance to post-pone our entry, and I'll be able to improvise my speech.

"Are you saying that you missed your cue?"

"Well, yes, but-" I run a hand through my hair, addressing the stage guy seriously. "Look, my partner, he was supposed to say it. Well, he suddenly got sick, so we missed it, okay? He won't be able to go up there, but I can, and-"

"Wait." The man interrupts me rudely. "Who are you?"

"What? I'm Max Bialystock, but how does that change-"

"As in Bialystock and Bloom?"

I sigh, throwing my arms up in defeat. Apparently, this guy is not up to helping me.

"Yes. Yes, that's me. What, do you want me to sign your diary?"

"Your partner is there," he waves towards the stage, clearly not impressed, and walks off to attend to a more important-looking guest.

Confused, I turn to the direction he's pointed. Curiosity draws me closer to the stage. Once there, I'm met with a shocking image.

He stands there, hands fumbling on his precious stack of index cards. I can see his hands shaking, even from the distance. Been a minute and he hasn't even said hello.

Finally, after a prolonged awkward silence, he moves his lips. Voice so frail, even with the microphone. It'd be hard to imagine something more fragile. Honestly, it wouldn't shock me if he burst into flames under that light.

With shaking uncertainty, he begins:

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Leopold Bloom. As the majority of you surely knows, I'm not here by myself today. I speak on the behalf of my partner, Max Bialystock, without whom-"

I'm taken aback by the applause breaking through the auditorium at the mention of my name. Well, that's uplifting.

Looking at the shaking mess on the stage, though, I can clearly see it took him aback, too.

"I'm here," he continues, a little louder.

"To speak on the behalf of my partner, Max Bialystock."

Wow, another mention? Well, I guess that comes with the fame.

He wipes his hand on his tux.

"Um, yes. As I said, I'm a part of a theatrcial duo, Bialystock and Bloom."

He keeps wiping.

"And I want to say, this is such an honor for us, to be invited-"

He turns to the next card.

The entire stack drops to the floor. Cards everywhere. I look around. My fellow spectators have lost their patience. Whispers, at first scattered, build to a steady rumble.

I turn to Leo.

Poor boy. Aware, but oblivious, down on his knees, collecting his words. I can see the tears forming. I know that look. They see him there, defenseless, and they pounce.

No mercy.

* * *

I'm on the ground, knees vibrating against the stage. I can't stop shaking. My cards, all scattered, out of sequence. Everything, out of sequence. I fight back the tears. I feel hot and cold at once and time seems to freeze for a moment. Only, it didn't. I'm still there, on the stage, ruining our whole career with this single spectacle.

I have to finish this.

Legs wobbling, my whole body a convulsing mess, I rise to stand. It takes every ounce of adrenaline and power to make it to my feet. To lift.

Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet those of the audience. I open my mouth, leaning into the microphone. And then, it grips me. Sinks in, the reality of this. A slow sobering.

Then, terror returns. The realizations. Of where I am. Of what I'm doing. Of what I said. What did I say?

I listen to the echo, trying to catch up with myself. But my voice is long gone. There's only silence.

Did I speak at all just now? Or did I only imagine it?

I look up, blinded by the lights. What have I done?

Leave. Now.

Panic-stricken, I turn, and I go, and I don't look back.

* * *

He steps away from the microphone and hurries off the stage.

There's a pause, everywhere: What the hell was that?

Then, suddenly, around me there's a growing sound.

Someone starts laughing. And then clapping.

At first, it's sparse. Then growing, steady. It's hitting me slowly, what I'm hearing.

Soon, the whole audience breaks into applause, laughing maniacally.

What?

* * *

Even outside of the hotel, hands pressed against my ears, I can hear them. Laughing. All of them. At me.

Well, not that I blame them. It must be hilarious, no? To see someone so pitiful walk onstage so confidently, only to lose the cockiness a second later. But, now it's too late. The damage has been done and the fool lived up to his apparent life mission once again; To be a joke. Really, I would laugh, too, had I been able to breathe properly to begin with.

Slowly, I slide down the wall, desparately trying to block all outside world. I don't even care to attend the after party. I can't bear the idea of being trapped with all those people as they offer reviews of the travesty they had just witnessed onstage.

No thank you.

From the day Max told me about the ceremony, I was certain it would be a faux pas. I've been waiting for the worst to come, imagining it to be something beyond my control, something unexpected, and yet, in the end, I basically chased it. I walked right onstage into the worst thing that could happen. Way to go, Bloom.

Just as I'm almost ready to collect myself, get home and crawl under the covers, never to re-emerge again, I hear the heavy doors next to me being opened. I tense up. Maybe if I keep still enough, they either won't notice me or just keep walking. However, I'm nearly sent straight into a panic as the figure touches the top of my head unexpectedly. I bolt up, taking a few steps back from the disturber. I can vaguely feel my left foot hitting the bollard, bracing myself for the backwards fall, right into the busy street. Wouldn't that be quite conevient, actually?

Well, maybe not today. Before I can gather what's left of my wits, I'm dragged back onto the pavement by the lapels of my suit, getting dragged back into reality in the same motion.

I find myself staring into the face of my dear partner; A relief and an inconvenience at the same time. Max, he never should have encouraged me in the first place. He should have been honest with me. 'I'm sorry, Leo, but this is way beyond your ability as a human being. You shouldn't even consider it. That's the simple truth, pal.'

"What in the everliving hell, Bloom?!" Here we go.

"What do you think you're doing?" he inquires urgently. I give no response.

He takes the hint and releases my suit, stepping back with a deep sigh. I just keep looking back at him solemnly, waiting for the inevitable.

"Won't you do it?" I ask.

"Do what?"

"Tell me off. Tell me to never come near the theater or you ever again. Tell me to-"

"To shut up? Yes, please do. Now," Max passes a hand across his face in an exasperated manner, fixating me with a serious look. I shrink into myself, dreading what's to come. "Oh, come here, you fool."

What? I frown, standing my ground. I'm not going anywhere.

"Oh, Heavens!" he exclaims after a moment, stepping forward to gather me into a somewhat awkward hug. He gave me no time to be surprised, but I stiffen nonetheless. I don't want to be held, but I also won't dare to move.

"What are you... I mean, you're not-"

"Slow down. Take a deep breath and start again," Max tells me calmly, and I do as I'm told.

"You're not angry?" My voice is quiet and unsteady, I'm aware, but it's the most I can make of it at the moment.

"Angry?" he chuckles, pulling back to look me in the face, "Well, to be honest, you did piss me off at first. Pretty much so. I thought you're just being stubborn and trying to get out of it, you know?" I make a face as he ruffles my hair.

"But," he rises a finger, "then I saw you on that stage and boy, did you freak me out. I honestly thought you'd faint over there, or worse."

" _Worse_? What could possibly be worse than what I demonstrated there?!"

"Or worse you'll continue the speech instead," he smirks.

"Touché," I mutter, not really feeling up to be joking about it yet. It really was terrible.

"Alright, listen. I get that you're... Disappointed, or whatever, and to be frank, I am, too. But on the bright side, every publicity is a publicity, even a bad one. So what? Get over it and let's have a drink, hm?"

"Really? Is that your solution for everything?"

"Which part? Getting over it or getting drunk?"

I sigh. Deeply.

"Well, both, actually."

"Great! Let's get going, then," he grabs my elbow, leading me away.

I twist my arm gently, freeing myself from the grip before he can proceed.

"Max, wait. I can't; I really don't feel that well, could we just-"

"Just what, go home and mope? Watch you skulk in your room all day, mourning your wounded pride? I think not, sonny."

"Wounded pride?" I scoff incredulously, "this is more than a wounded pride. This is a collosal and utter fail, an international embarrassment, a personal defeat. Don't you get it? I wanted to challenge my anxiety; To prove that I can actually go and do something daring without there being terrible consequences. And what happened? The last few times I tried, it never turned out to be just my constant overthinking. No, the problem- the problem is elsewhere, Max. And you just don't want to say it," I can feel my body jerking with tiny spasms again, but this time I actually don't regret what I said. Someone had to say it, and it feels quite refreshing to criticize yourself instead of getting criticized for once.

"Yeah, what is the problem, then? Please, enlighten me, little buddy," he teases lightly to relax me, but it really has the opposite effect.

"Gah! This!" I gesture at my whole figure wildly, desparate to make him see. "This! I'm the problem! It's me! How can you not see it? I'm the damn problem here, alright? I'm-"

And once again, I find myself encircled in an an embrace that's a bit too tight, only this time, I can't hold it together. This guilt and angst, climbing down my throat, strangling my gut. It makes my eyes sting. One drop. And then another. The mass of shame inside leaking out. Then finally, a sob. And I let it go.

"You're a schmuck. A complete and utter schmuck, that's what you are," he says, pulling me closer against his chest. Inhaling the familiar scent grounds me a little. Yes, I need to focus on my senses. Well, maybe not my senses. They're a little out of whack at the moment. Or maybe not focus at all. On anything.

"Oh, come on, now," Max pats my head awkwardly, "it wasn't even that bad."

"Yes it was," I mutter against his body stubbornly.

"Yes," he chuckles after a moment of consideration, "it was."

"But Leo?" I feel him lean back slightly, but I don't budge. I don't want to let go.

"Hmm?"

"This doesn't change anything," he coughs nonchalantly, "I mean, between us."

At that, I do lift my head. "What do you mean?"

"Oh Jesus, don't look at me with those eyes, I beg you. Here," he hands me a silk handkerchief.

"Thank you," I sniff, dabbing at my face lightly. A delicate embroidery on the material catches my attention.

"What's this?"

"Huh?"

"There's a T. What does it stand for?"

"Oh," he chuckles, sounding somewhat embarrassed, "it's nothing. I got it from someone. A friend, if you will."

"A friend?" I'm intrigued now.

"I've mentioned him before. Boris Tomaschevski. He was..."

"Oh! Yes, yes, I know who it is! Well, was..." I look down to the soft fabric in my hands, considering what to say next and not make the situation any more uncomfortable, "Forgive me asking, but why did you hand me that one?"

"I didn't check what I was handing you, it's the only one I had on me, apparently," Max smiles at me, a certain nostalgy surrounding him. I tilt my head in curiosity.

"Oh..." I breathe, not really knowing how to respond to that.

"Why don't you keep it?"

"What? No, no, I couldn't-"

"Why not? It's always brought me luck. Well, maybe not as much luck as courage but... God knows you need some of that, huh? And besides, you do have a thing for old rugs," he nudges me in the ribs, that typical smirk of his plastered on his face.

"Thanks," I roll my eyes and take it carefully, but it means a lot to me. No one had ever shared such a private thing with me, not even Max.

"Max?" I hesitate, still looking at the cloth in my hands, "Will you tell me about him?"

"About Boris? Geez, kid, I don't think you'd be interested..."

"I am!" I exclaim a bit too loudly, "I mean, yeah, of course I am. Please?"

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. But only if," he raises a finger menacingly.

"If what?" I sigh defeatedly. Of course there would be a 'but'.

"Only if it's on the way to the after-party!"

"Max... You know I-"

"I know you're way too curious to say no," he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay, fine, damn you," I grumble, but can't hold back a smile. The bastard knows how to get around me.

"You're mad because I'm right."

"Shut up."

"Aw, love you too."

"So," I look at him pointedly, starting to walk, "I believe you promised me something."

* * *

_**A/N:** More to come! Let me know what you think in the meantime :)_


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